Better Left Unsaid
by Darqstar
Summary: After his mother dies, Dudley Dursley finds out things about her he never knew.  VERY short story, RR if you're so inclined.


**Better Left Unsaid?**

Groaning slightly at the pain in his lower back, Dudley Dursley stretched and looked around the attic of his parents former house. Cleaning out an attic was never fun on the best of days, on a hot, summer day it was even worse. However, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. Mother had died almost a fortnight ago, and his father had died several years earlier of a heart attack. The place was his, but he really didn't want to live there, neither did his wife, Mary. His son and daughter, Harry and Joanne, ages 10 and 5 had definite opinions on the house too, and neither were positive.

"It smells like old people," was Harry's opinion.

"Old people and ammonia!" Joanne echoed.

Of course, Joanne, being the younger, might just be agreeing because she felt Harry was always right, but when Dudley took a deep sniff, he realized the place did smell like old people and the cleaning fluids his mother had used on the place day after day after day. He liked the way the house he lived in now smelled, usually like the cookies and pies Mary loved to bake. Sadly, he had to be careful about eating said goodies, least he gained too much weight. He'd managed to gain control of his weight when he went off to University, but it would always be a struggle. He envied his son sometimes. Harry got either Petunia or Mary's metabolism, that boy could eat a horse _and _a cow and never gain an ounce.

The only logical thing to do with this house was sell it. The Realtor had checked it out a weeek ago and said it would be snapped up in a minute, the neighborhood had become fashionable, finding a buyer willing to pay the price Dudley felt fair was not going to be a problem. However, before the house could be sold, it had to be cleaned out. So, he'd been spending all of his free time over here, sometimes with the kids and Mary, sometimes alone, hauling out things. Anything of any use was donated, a few sentimental souvenirs were kept by him, everything else was being tossed. Now all that remained in the attic was a small pile of boxes, things that seemed to be childhood mementos of his mother's. \

Dudley was more than tempted to just gather it all up, and throw it away, not even taking a second look, but a small part of him just couldn't do it. _This is all that remains of my mother's past,_ he thought to himself. _All that proves she had a life before I came along. I won't keep it, but don't I owe it to her to at least look at this stuff? _ He sat down on the floor and began opening boxes and going through the contents. Post cards, photos, and other souvenirs from places his mother had been to were in most of them. Others contained toys and various trinkets. Smiling, he looked at each one for a few seconds before putting them aside.

In one box, he found various holiday cards, saved through out her life. He looked at those, seeing Birthday and Christmas cards from family members and friends of the family. There was even a small package of letters labeled, "Love notes from Vern" which he picked up and put in his pocket to read later, curious to see if his father was even capable of writing a true love letter. While his folks had loved each other, their love was hardly passionate. Maybe it had been at the beginning though. The rest of the box seemed worthless, so he tipped it to spill the contents of it into the large trash bag he had brought up here. As the letters and cards fluttered into the trash, his attention was drawn to a piece of paper that must have once been a brilliant scarlet, but was now a faded reddish gray color. It had been on the bottom of the box, which meant it had gone to the top of the trash. It was obviously construction paper, not the slick card stock of the rest of the items. Placing the box on the floor, he leaned over and plucked it out of the trashcan. "Happy Valentines Day" was printed on the front of it in a clumsy, childish, hand. Dudley smiled, wondering who had sent his mother a home made valentine card, at such a young age. He opened the card carefully, trying not to rip the old, brittle paper. Inside the card was a lopsided heart. But, instead of beginning "To Petunia" the card said "To S. S. Will you be my valentine? Love P. E. " Inside the heart were the same initials, arranged carefully.

S. S.

P. E.

TL 4Ever!

Dudley stared at it for several minutes. Clearly, the card had been made by his mother, but never sent, never given to the the intended recipient "S. S. " Dudley murmured, "I wonder who S. S. was?" For several minutes, he stood there, holding the card and thinking. His mother hadn't talked much about her past, but she had occasionally mentioned friends she'd had or folks she'd known. None of these people mentioned ever had the initials S. S. Clearly his mother had quite a crush on this S. S. person, despite the childishness of the card, some careful work had gone into its making. Dudley wondered if S. S. ever knew of his mother's love for him. He wondered if this S. S. person was still alive somewhere and if he remembered the little dark hair girl who had a crush on him. "I guess that's one secret Mum took to the grave with her," he said softly, then shrugged and threw the card in the trash. 

Fin

_ I guess I wrote this because A: Dudley turned out to almost be human, so I found myself hoping he had a decent life after all and B: I wondered with Petunia. Yes, I could see why she might be so upset that Lily was going off to Hogwarts, but I imagine her sister had come home on Holidays. I can't see how someone could contain so much hate for someone that they would have to deal with, that was a member of the family. But, if Petunia's first heartbreak came from having a wizard never even notice her existence, but instead, was fawning all over Lily, that might give her more reason to really hate everything having to do with magic._


End file.
